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HI TEK WAR poem

 

CONTACT IS LOST

 

A dozen blips circle each other on a radar screen. All given a number and speed, some fade and wink out like some kid’s space invader game.

Now eight remain, all moving on the screen like fireflies in the night.

In the real world jet fighters claw each other from the sky to either live or to die.

As each plane flares in a missile blast the pilot dies ...

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